


no one really knows his mind (no one knows behind his eyes)

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he can’t go out there like this. not on live television, no, he’d have too much to explain away. he can’t do that when he doesn’t even have an explanation for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one really knows his mind (no one knows behind his eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> i love tyler joseph
> 
> i didnt proofread this bye  
> alternatively titled 'fuck that guy and his sideburns'

his hands are shaking, just barely so, when he pulls on his beanie and meticulously fixes it over his hair. his thumbs brush over the hem of the fabric nervously once, twice, as he swallows around the lump in his throat and pushes away the urge to pull it down past his eyes to avoid seeing himself in the dressing room’s floor-length mirror.

but he doesn’t. he yanks his hands away from where they’re fidgeting apprehensively with the beanie, forcing his arms down to hang limply by his sides, to catch his own gaze. instinctively, his painted hands roll into tense fists, clenching tightly enough for the press of his too-sharp nails to almost break the skin of his blackened palms.

he presses harder until his wrists are shaking with exertion and his palms sting and burn from the paint. he doesn’t stop, only presses his nails in deeper until the skin breaks and small trickles of red burst forth underneath his fingertips; only then does he retract his nails and uncurl his fingers, relaxing his palms and instructing himself to breathe.

another once over of his appearance, even though it’s made him increasingly more self-conscious every time he does it. how many times has it been? four, five? his fingers twitch by his sides as he looks at the grey dress, barely tapering off above his knees, hesitantly raising his eyes to meet his own gaze.

a strange feeling of despair curls through his gut as he smoothes down the sides with his palms, runs his hands over his thighs. he tries to convince himself that he’s fine, that he looks fine, _pretty_ , even, but it doesn’t stick and he needs to change. he can’t go out there like this. not on live television, no, he’d have too much to explain away. he can’t do that when he doesn’t even have an explanation for himself.

another lump in his throat that he swallows down as he turns to go and change into something that would be perceived as normal for the rest of the world.

“tyler,” josh says as he walks into the dressing room, at the exact same moment tyler moves away from the mirror, and their eyes meet. tyler physically jolts in anxiety, stomach curling up out of fear. did he _not_ lock the door? how could he have not locked the door? “we’re on in –“

his words taper off in mild confusion as his eyes flicker down the rest of tyler’s shaking frame. for a second, his mouth hangs open, before shutting and tyler needs him to fucking say something. he’ll take anything, at this point, even if josh laughs at him and tells him to go and change because he looks ridiculous. he knows he does. buying the damn thing was a mistake and he wished he hadn’t been stupid enough to go through with it. “hey, you look nice. i like it. we’re on in ten.”

he pulls up the brim of his snapback, brushing the rest of his hair underneath and resituating it, corner of his lip quirking up when tyler says nothing in return.

his throat feels like cotton and his mouth refuses to work; he clenches up his jaw and simply nods, turning back to the mirror and looking at himself again. he tries to will josh away with his thoughts, avoiding his eyes, but he _stays_ , staring at tyler’s back.

josh clears his throat, approaching the mirror and cocking his head to the side inquisitively as he runs a hand over tyler’s shoulder and smoothes out the wrinkles on the grey fabric. “you look nice,” he repeats himself, as if tyler hadn’t heard him the first time, smiling gently, reassuringly. “you’ll do great out there. okay?”

with each passing second, tyler feels increasingly more confident in his skin, squaring up his shoulders and meeting josh’s eyes. “okay,” he says, and even though he expected his voice to break, it comes out strong and steady. he looks _nice_. josh’s reassurance is more than what he needs to feel okay with going through with this. he looks nice and he’s going to be fine. “thank you.”

“sure.” josh pats his shoulder comfortingly, flashing him a bright smile and moving to tug down the hem of his shirt. he casually fixes the red smudged around his eyes, reaching around tyler with his free arm and tugging him into a side hug. “let’s go blow their minds.”


End file.
